SUNDAY IN THE PARK

Sunday.

I have it on good authority that the Gods do not want you to play golf, or veg on the couch watching the team du jour get pummeled. I believe that the Gods Asphaltium, Macadamous, and Roadisious wish us to ride motorcycles. And, now and again they provide the perfect Sunday to do just this. I had an interesting one of these in May.

I had just brought a new bike into the stable. A 2019 Kawasaki Z900RS. For those of you who were around and riding back in the early 70s, the Kawasaki Z-1 more or less ruled the streets. I had one back then and am very sorry that my 19-year-old brain did not realize just what I had and I spent all my free time abusing the machine as only a 19-year old kid would. This new 900Z came in those same colors - Root Beer and Orange!

My favorite color scheme.

So, when the opportunity arose to purchase a new “old-style” Z I jumped at the chance.

My brother-in-law Jan was up to Backroads Central the next week. He asked if I was going to put bags on it. “Nope – it stays this way – perhaps a small RKA Tank Bag – just to carry some things”, I replied. “Oh, so it’s a Sunday bike…” Exactly. Jan has very good taste in a wide variety of things. He liked the Z-1. I liked that he liked it too. A few weeks later I had a rare Sunday to myself as Shira had to attend a Bridal Shower for our friend Maria’s daughter Victoria. The odd thing is that I was married to Maria at one time – pre-Shira – but as I headed out on, in my mind, a reborn ‘73 Z-1 I realized that both women that I have married were drinking wine and partying together 100-miles away. Strange things happen in the world. My Brian-Do list for that Sunday was complete, basically lawn care & vehicle maintenance. By mid-after-

noon, showered and fresh, I rolled the Z900 out of the barn. It amazes me how light and tiny it is next to my war horse BMW R1250GS.

It was a warm day, in the mid-80s, so I went for my vented gear that just so happens to have a splash of orange on it. A quick ride into Newton for a full tank and I was off.

Sunny Sunday – just me and my bike 4 days shy of my 63rd trip around the sun.

As Joe Jackson sang: You better believe it, you know my dream’s still alive. You can love it or leave it,but I’m never gonna be 35.

No, I was gonna be 63. Yikes!

We all have our own little motorcycle loops and I have given mine away in these pages many times. So, it was not at all too strange that this midSunday afternoon I scooted through Branch and Beemervilles’ along County Road 519, our personal test track owned and maintained by the state of New Jersey.

It was way past lunchtime and, slightly famished, I headed to the Elias Cole. Nancy and her crew do everything fresh and although there is nothing I would not eat on their menu I had a hankerin’ for some fried chicken, which the Elias Cole does superbly. They also have the best pies in the region.

Now with bike and belly full, I headed up and over High Point and down the twisty part of Route 23 before making a left onto Clove Road.

This road was once listed as one of the most dangerous roads in New Jersey. Certainly, it has its share of curvy hills and decreasing radius turns, so for us, it is one of the most fun roads in New Jersey.

I made a right on Weider Road, as I had never been down this particular piece of pavement. It led to County Road 521 – called River Road.

River Road continues on the other side of Route 206 and into National Park Service land is one of the oldest roads in the nation.

The sign that sits in front of the old Bell House says the road was started around 1650 – that’s more than 100 years before the French & Indian

War. This just might be the oldest road in the nation.

The National Park Service might consider a little maintenance as it is bombed out! Rut city.

Just south of Route 206 you will nd Westbrook-Bell House. Spying the sign…and the other sign that said No Entry – Emergency Vehicles Only…I thought I’d mosey up the dirt and gravel drive to get a look at the house.

Easy and barely an inconvenience.

What I found was truly remarkable.

This small stone house was built Johannes Westbrook around 1701, and is one of three still standing which formed the village of Minisink. It was built in two different parts. The oldest, possibly predating 1730, contains what may be a secret Indian cellar. The Indian cellar was used to hide from unfriendly natives. Still, for the most part, the Dutch settlers to this region lived peacefully with local tribes.

The house was extensively remodeled in the 1860s, and again in 1955, but still maintains the intimacy and charm it originally possessed.

Just behind the barns, and on the property of an adjacent farm, a hole in the ground and a few stones mark the site of the Westbrook, one of a chain of seven forts along the Delaware constructed for defense against Indians. Today tall maples stand guard. Johannes Westbrook, an early settler, deeded land in 1731 to the people of the Minisink for a cemetery and a schoolhouse.

Continuing south I cut across the county road leading to Dingman’s Bridge – one of the only privately owned bridges in the nation.

This road leads up and over, rst into Peters Valley and then down into the Walpack Valley. The actual town of Walpack, the oldest in Sussex County, has become a ghost town after the federal government’s land buyout in the 1960s for the now-shelved Tocks Island Dam project. Back in the day, Henry Ford lent a touch of glamour to postal work in 1932 when he produced a lm about his automobiles and new V-8 engine outside the Walpack Post Of ce. The of ce then served more than 100 customers and people were as likely to ask for a roll of stamps as for a lump of butter and eggs from the general store that adjoined the Post Of ce. Today the valley is a hidden gem of the Garden State. The Flat Brook draws y shermen from the region and Buttermilk Falls can be stunning after a hard rain. Not so much this day. On the southern end, a steel bridge crosses the creek and led me past historic Millbrook Village. Heading into the backroads of the region I rode past Camp NoBeBosco, now a Boy Scout Camp but once the home of Jason Voorhees, for this is where the original Friday the 13th was lmed. My route would bring me down Millbrook Road – a super downhill stretch of very twisty miles that demands total and serious concentration. With my Sunday in the Park just about nished I rewarded myself with some coffee and ice cream from the Garriss General Store and then hustled my way back north on County Road 521 and home to Backroads Central.

Sunday is fun day and nothing works better than a ride through the park whether you’re 19 or 63. , ~ Brian Rathjen

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